Lucky
by LoveChilde
Summary: Episode tag to 3X16, An Elephant's Memory, second part of the sorta-series started with my story Second Step. Hotch and Reid 'discuss' Reid's behavior, despite Hotch's initial dislike of the idea. Consensual CP of an adult.


A/N: Again, I don't own them and am not making any money off this. Episode tag for 3X16, Elephant's Memory. Contains spoilers for episodes up to that one, and followed my fic Second Step, although you don't have to read it to make sense of this one. It'll help though. Contains consensual CP of an adult, and shades of pre-slash if you tilt your head sideways and squint.

Makes several assumptions that may seem to contradict the previous fic but a. remember that Gideon is full of hot air and big promises and b. I'm trying to stick as close to canon as I can. Also, I'm not sure Hotch actually has a sofa in his office. For the sake of this fic he does.

This was one of those cases where people didn't want to go back to the office once they'd landed in DC. It was already dark when they arrived, and the cars were waiting for them. They had paperwork to finish of course, case reports to write, but they'd all jotted down initial notes during the flight, and Hotch could tell they were beat.

"Go home, guys. We'll wrap this up tomorrow." The Bureau cars would take them back to Quantico, because their own cars were there, but it meant no one had to go up to the office. Prentiss and Morgan shot him grateful looks, JJ nodded, trying to smile and almost managing it. Rossi just nodded quietly, and Reid was lost in thought. They piled into the SUVs, and the drive back passed as quietly as the flight had. As they all started to go their separate ways in the parking lot, Hotch stopped at Reid's side. "When you're done tonight, come back and see me in my office." He kept his voice low enough that only Reid could hear. The younger agent gave him a questioning look. "I want to talk to you."

"Uh-" Reid checked his watch and frowned. "It might, um, take a while. I won't make it back here before ten." It was almost eight, and the meeting would be at least an hour and a half..."We could talk tomorrow?"

"Tonight, Reid." Hotch stood firm, as always. "I have a mountain of paperwork to do, I'll still be here. And so will you." A mountain of paperwork and a cold, empty apartment to return to. Somehow the office seemed more welcoming, after this kind of case. At least there he didn't have to be alone with his thoughts. With a deep sigh, thinking about what he planned to do later, what he dreaded but felt was necessary, he settled down to his reports.

It was actually a little after ten when Reid knocked on the door to Hotch's office. He was carrying two large cups of coffee and a paper bag. "Hey."

"Come in." Hotch looked stern, but then he almost always did. "What's that?" One of the cups was left on his desk, the other Reid kept to himself.

"We've had a really long day, most of it bad." Reid shrugged. "If you're about to fire me, I'd rather be properly caffeinated for it." They both knew Hotch wouldn't fire him like this, after-hours, and besides, he'd already said he wasn't going to. Hotch gave him a hard look and Reid ducked his head, sheepish. "Fine, I wanted coffee and something sweet and it felt rude to eat alone, so there's enough for two. Besides, you haven't had anything to eat since lunch, either."

Now that Hotch thought about it, he was starving. He opened the paper bag Reid held out and fished out a muffin. "Not exactly a well balanced meal."

"A muffin _and _a danish. It's balanced enough." At least it was something closer to complex carbs than their usual fare, which included mainly coffee and energy bars while on cases. Again, Hotch gave him a reproving look, but he demolished the muffin in three bites and reached for the danish before speaking again.

"How was the meeting?" Now that they were alone, there was no need to call it a movie. "You don't have to tell me." He added, aware that he was crossing carefully guarded lines of privacy here.

"No, it's ok. There's not much to tell. It was...ok, I guess. I don't have anything to compare it to, really." It'd been mainly confusing, and he didn't give him any real peace of mind. "It certainly gave me some perspective."

"You've been to other meetings before, haven't you?" Hotch asked, and frowned when Reid shook his head. "I gave Gideon the details months ago."

"I know. But you know how I am with public speaking." Reid smiled without any real joy. "Besides, I didn't feel I needed it. But seeing others, how they'd been struggling with it for years, decades in some cases...I'm lucky, in comparison."

Hotch wondered how exactly Reid felt lucky, considering how he'd become addicted in the first place, but on the other hand could understand that seeing people who've fallen off the wagon would make him feel better about staying on it. "You're not using again, that much I know. You've made sure to keep your sleeves rolled up for the past week, at least some of the time." Reid's slightly rueful expression confirmed that.

"I've been clean for ten months, Hotch. Since that case in New Orleans."

"I'm glad to hear that. Gideon never did tell me what he did, he wanted me to stay uninvolved so I'd have plausible deniability if anybody ever discovered-"

"Actually, _I_ wanted you uninvolved. And him as well. So you were." Reid stopped him quietly. "He didn't do anything. Dropped me off at home, I gave him my keys and had him lock me in for the weekend. You remember I took that week off?"

"Yes, I thought you went home to Vegas." Hotch frowned- that didn't sound at all like the best way to deal with withdrawal, not from something as powerful as dilaudid. "You were home alone all that week?"

Reid nodded. "Gideon came to check on me twice, brought me a few family-sized bottles of energy drinks to keep my electrolytes up and made sure I was stocked up on food, but that was about it. We didn't exchange more than ten words all that week, beyond hello and goodbye." It'd been the way he'd wanted it, and Gideon, despite telling him again and again that he needed to let the team help, had allowed it. In fact, he had argued far less than Reid'd thought he would, which surprised him at the time. "After that, just knowing you were both watching me for any slip up was enough. You knew, so I wasn't alone. It helped."

"A week?" Hotch asked again. Reid nodded. "Alone in your apartment." Nod. "Energy drinks?" Another nod. "If I ever see Gideon again..." There would be some very strong words said. Possibly even a punch thrown. "He said he was helping you. I believed him. I'm sorry."

"He _was_ helping me. You have nothing to be sorry for." He'd preferred it alone. Yes, that week had been complete and total hell, but mainly physically, which he could handle. He knew that he could call and help would be there, no questions asked- and he knew he'd have outside help watching him, so he wouldn't have to control himself all the time. It'd really helped. "Just knowing I could ask for help was enough. Really. I'm over it." His mouth twisted, somewhat bitter. "I thought I was, anyway."

"Yes, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I should've expected it, sooner or later. Actually, I expected it sooner." Hotch looked at Reid steadily, waiting for him to get it himself. When his eyes widened slightly and his jaw clenched in irritation, he knew things had clicked together.

"You expected me to fall apart after Gideon left."

"Can you blame me?" Reid's stare made it clear that yes, he definitely could. "You found the letter, you were the one who went after him- you were closest to him." In fact, Reid had practically worshipped the older man. "You were angry when he left."

"I was angry that he left without saying goodbye. He ran away, and I couldn't. An escape is an escape, his was just more tangible than mine. And more permanent, so far. Is there a twelve step program for people who run away?" Reid shrugged the question away. "It wasn't an easy time, but eventually I...let it go. There was no use tying myself up in knots over it." He'd still done it for about a week, but no longer. He had neither forgiven nor forgotten, but he didn't let himself obsess about it anymore. "I'm my own man, Hotch."

"I know that." Hotch nodded. "However, you admitted yourself that you've been having problems lately. What you did today was incredibly self destructive, on several levels, and it doesn't matter that you didn't succeed in self-destructing. I know it was a personal issue for you, but..." He glanced at his desk. "Reid, when Gideon left he left something for me. Or rather, he sent me a package that arrived about two days after you found the letter." He held up a hand to stall any questions. "It wasn't postmarked, he'd paid a delivery boy in cash to leave it, addressed to me, at the Bureau." He sighed. "It contained something I hadn't expected, and very detailed instructions on how to use it, should I ever decide I need to. Embarrassingly detailed." To Reid's bemusement, his boss seemed to be blushing, just a little. "He even included internet links."

Reid's mind was flooded with possible ideas, from the wild to the downright absurd, of what Gideon might've sent Hotch, but none of those came even close to the real thing. When Hotch drew an extremely familiar object from his desk drawer, Reid flushed to the tips of his ears, then quickly looked away, burying his face in his hands. "I'm going to kill him. Bare handed." He choked out. "What was he thinking?"

"I wondered the same." Hotch examined the wooden paddle, lacquered and dotted with two rows of drilled holes, as if seeing it for the first time. "As I said, he left very detailed instructions for its use and when it might be called into service." If anything, Reid's face became redder, then slowly drained of color.

"Service? By you?" He found he honestly couldn't breathe, too torn between terror at the very thought and hysterical laughter, because there was no way Hotch would ever- and then he registered Hotch's expression, wary but determined. "You- you're actually considering it, aren't you?"

"After today, I think it's pretty warranted, yes." Hotch nodded slowly. "The top reason on Gideon's list of reasons to use this is self destructiveness, and the second is any sign you might be spiraling. I think this counts for both, plus a few others I could list." He still wasn't sure he could do it, or wanted to. It'd been a very long time since he'd hurt another person physically outside of training or self defense. This...This could end up being just violence. His mind shied away from the word 'abuse'. He studied the paddle again. "This looks very efficient."

"Depending on what you're trying to achieve, it can be." And Reid hadn't felt it in well over a year, and definitely wasn't looking forward to experiencing the effect again. "I thought you disapproved of the arrangement." Of course he was aware that Hotch knew about it, as team leader he had to know about such things, but he'd never even mentioned it before, and he knew there were certain issues he had with that kind of disciplinary action.

"I did. But it seemed to work for you, and it was consensual and didn't interrupt the team dynamic, so I let it go on." Hotch tilted his head. "Did he use this in New Orleans? He didn't have a very large bag that time."

"No." Reid's mouth twisted. "You knew about New Orleans?"

"As far as I know Gideon told me about every single incident. New Orleans was the only one he mentioned beforehand instead of just going ahead and doing it. He wasn't sure he should. The next morning I saw that he'd decided to do it anyway"

"You- you noticed?" This was beyond embarrassing, and beyond awkward. "It was that obvious?"

"Only because I knew it was going to happen, so I noticed that you didn't sit on the plane. You're lucky JJ didn't fight you for the couch. But you did look like death warmed over, I think she thought you were coming down with a cold or something."

"She thought I was in withdrawal." Reid replied flatly. "And she was right. But she was discreet about it. Emily too." They'd both made a point of checking up on him, calling to make sure he was alive during his week off. Garcia had texted him pictures of kittens and recipes for muffins. All three had offered to drop by and help, and were refused as politely as he could. Morgan had kept very silent on the whole thing, which was just as well really. "Anyway, about New Orleans, no. He wasn't, if I recall his words correctly, 'packed' for that eventuality, so he didn't have it with him. He, uh, improvised." At Hotch's raised eyebrow, he unwillingly added "He used my own hairbrush. I left it at the motel, I didn't want to ever see it again, let alone use it." He could still recall the sting of the wooden brush against his backside in vivid detail.

"I still can't believe he just left you alone and locked the apartment from the outside." Hotch shuddered. "What if you'd needed medical assistance? Did he consider you might get suicidal?" The possibilities were terrifying.

"I wasn't suicidal and I told him as much, and he believed me." The truth was that if it'd been up to him, Reid would've had Gideon take away every sharp object in his apartment with him, but there were too many of them. To bring up the possibility would've ended with him on suicide watch or something, and he wanted his privacy a lot more than he wanted to avoid hurting himself. "Look, it's over. I cleaned up, I'm fine now."

"But you're thinking about it again, aren't you? You want to escape."

"I want to sleep more than two hours at a time." Reid sighed. "You have no idea how great the drugs are at keeping you from dreaming. I want to close my eyes and not see blood on the floor." He looked tired, resigned. "I told you why I did what I did today. If I had a chance to do it again, I would."

"I know, that's what worries me. People could've gotten hurt, Reid." Hotch gave him a hard look, but Reid didn't back down.

"I knew I could talk him down. I speak the language. I couldn't just stand there and let him be taken down, and if those cops had come at him, he would've been."

"What if he'd shot you? He was panicking, armed and dangerous."

"Emily was covering me."

"So, best case scenario was he shoots you and Emily takes him down. Nice of you to delegate the burden of shooting a teenager to her, don't you think?" Reid had the good grace to wince at that. It wasn't that he hadn't considered the possibility, but he'd been so sure he could avoid that option it just hadn't mattered. "And worst case scenario he shoots you and Emily, and rushes into the police station where he either shoots everybody or takes them hostage, making the situation much, much worse."

"Actually, the best case scenario was the one that happened- I talk him into surrendering, and he's taken in with minimal violence and closure for his girlfriend. I knew I could do it, Hotch."

"You blocked o ur shots." Hotch reminded him coldly.

"I know. I'm sorry. You would've interfered."

"Yes, we damn well would've! We were trying to cover you, and you didn't trust us to trust you enough. That's a serious problem. I can't allow anything like that to repeat." Hotch paused for effect. "Also, you lied to us, Reid. To me. You fed us false information on purpose to send us to the wrong place. Now, lying may only be sixth on Gideon's list of reason, but it pretty much tops mine, you should know that by now."

Reid nodded unhappily. He knew honesty was a big issue with Hotch, as well as trust, and he'd hated doing it but he had to. "He wouldn't have listened to me if I'd been surrounded by all of you. He felt like he was one kid against the world, with the whole world against him." He shook his head. "Hotch, I knew I could do it, one on one. He thought no one was listening. I had to try. I knew I was right."

"That kind of arrogance isn't like you. You decided you need to save this one boy- for him you were willing to throw away your entire career? You're lucky the locals trust me to deal with you, or they'd have filed a complaint with the Bureau themselves!" Sometimes the others had no idea about the kind of bureaucratic bullshit Hotch protected them from, took care of so they wouldn't have to. "We can't save everybody, Reid."

"I know." Quiet, but resolved. "I had to save _him_. I had to try. I'm sorry I had to lie to do it."

"So am I. I'm sorry you didn't feel you trusted us enough to explain." 

"There was no time-" Reid protested, but Hotch shook his head once, sharply.

"There's always time. Think about what this did to your professional credibility, Reid- do we have to start doubting every one of your deductions now, or wonder whether you're telling the truth or sending us off so you can work on your own? We have to be able to trust each other for this team to work." He didn't even raise his voice, but he saw this was an angle Reid's brilliant mind hadn't considered. His face fell, and he hung his head.

"I- I'm sorry. There isn't much else I can say. You know my reasons, and I'm sorry. I had to try to save him." He brushed hair out of his face, "And I don't regret that it worked, either. I never would've, even if you'd fired me."

"I'm glad it worked as well. The alternative would've been..."

"More paperwork than it's worth?" Reid suggested, trying to break the tension. Hotch glared at him.

"You're in enough trouble without being flippant about it, Spencer." The use of his first name shut Reid up, as usual. "Now...You had an arrangement with Gideon. You don't have one with me." This was the difficult part, Hotch knew. He had to have Reid's consent- in effect, Reid would be allowing him, even asking him, to fulfill his side of the deal.

"Are you suggesting the same sort of arrangement?" Snapped back into his current predicament, Reid was all concentration.

"I'm not sure. Gideon detailed the parameters in his letter-" Hotch held up the tightly-written sheet of paper he'd found with the paddle. "Let me know if they're accurate- once you agreed the first time, it was entirely his call when and how to discipline you, as long as he was able to clarify exactly why he was doing it and you agreed with his assessment. As long as he explained his reasons, you couldn't outright refuse punishment."

"Except that once in New Orleans, yes." Reid nodded. "In four years, he's done this eleven times, and on two other occasions he was unable to convince me his grounds were justified- or rather, I convinced him he was wrong on one occasion, and too distracted by anger to be thinking rationally the second time." A brief smile flashed across his face, "I'm good at talking people down when my well being is threatened, I'm sure you've noticed that."

Hotch was a little surprised that Reid was being so forthright about it, but since he knew about those eleven occasions (though not the two avoided), there was no point in hiding, was there? The younger man did look uncomfortable discussing it, but that had rarely stopped him, when he felt something needed to be said. "Yes, I've noticed." He agreed dryly. "Well. We could make the same deal, I suppose."

"We could." Reid tilted his head a little, thoughtful. "But somehow it doesn't seem right. Not because I don't trust you to decide-"

"But because I don't trust myself." Hotch finished for him, and got a nod in return.

"Gideon had a lot more experience. I- uh- assume you've never done anything like this?" He'd never read Hotch as into any of that stuff, and knowing (guessing, rather) his personal background, Reid was sure he'd never even think about raising a hand to Jack, who was still too young for it anyway.

"No, never. Hence the links and instructions, I suppose." He'd never even thought about it before, and did his best not to wonder or guess at how Gideon's encounters with Reid had gone.

"Yeah, I wanted to ask, even though I'm not sure I really want to know...Links?"

"Images of, um, the results of a paddling. On females, I think Gideon figured it'd be less of a shock, for some reason. He said it's so I wouldn't, and I quote, 'freak out, because the kid bruises easy and the paddle does a number on him'. If he was trying to reassure me, he failed." The photos had been enlightening, and ranged from 'this shouldn't worry you' through 'this is about what you're aiming for' to 'you don't want to get to this'. Reid turned away, flushing again, swallowing with difficulty.

"I should be grateful he didn't find some pornographic lookalike of me, I wouldn't put it past him."

Hotch winced, "Thank you for that mental image." he tried to shake it off and failed. Reid ducked his head by way of apology, looking as disturbed by the thought as Hotch was. "So, case by case basis?"

"Sounds about right, yes. For tonight, I only have one question."

"Go ahead."

"You were angry with me earlier, right?"

"Furious." Hotch nodded.

"Are you still furious? I mean, obviously you're unhappy with me, but are you truly angry?"

Hotch considered the question with the seriousness it deserved, and finally shook his head. "I'm not as angry as I was. I'm disappointed, yes, and I was very worried I'd have to fire you, but I'm not ready to strangle you, which I definitely was this afternoon."

"Ok, good. Then you're all clear." Reid sighed. "I accept that you have the right to discipline me as you see fit. I- uh- I'll need five minutes to get ready?"

That was far too easy. It actually bothered Hotch that Reid wasn't putting up more of a fight. Was that Gideon's influence, force of habit, or some organic leaning towards masochism in him? "That's it? You just...agree?" It was just wrong.

"I agree you have a general right as my team leader." Reid was actually smiling, although he didn't look so calm anymore. "I didn't say I'm not going to do my best to convince you not to do it. I know Gideon thought I had something of a masochistic streak, but it doesn't swing that particular way, if it exists." It wasn't that he wanted a spanking, not in the least, but he did feel guilty about lying to the team, and tired of having to face things alone. He wasn't sure if it was fair to try and share the burden with Hotch, who had plenty of problems, himself, but...Maybe it'd help them both. As usual when it came to interpersonal stuff, he just didn't know. "I trust you more than I trusted Gideon. He...from the start I knew how it would be." Gideon had promised great things, snagged him right out of university with the ink still not dry on his final dissertation, bent a few rules to get him straight into the BAU out of the Academy and a further three months of extra training, put him through hell to drag him through the physical training part of the Academy, and then broke down and disappeared for six months almost immediately after Reid finally joined the team. It had helped him become accepted on his own merit, but it hadn't been easy.

Hotch understood all that without an explanation, which is half the reason Reid trusted him so much. There was a reason he'd chosen him and not Gideon, when Hankel had him. He nodded. "Ok. So, you need to get ready before you try to talk me out of it?"

"Yeah. Just in case you win." Again the shy half smile. "Also, I've had my contacts in for over 18 hours and they're becoming annoying." Reid was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to change Hotch's mind, and found he was ok with that. He'd still try, of course, if only to complete the ritual, but he'd actually be happier to fail. "Ok? Five minutes." He didn't know whether giving Hotch five minutes alone to think and possibly change his mind was that good an idea, once he got the ball rolling, but he really didn't want to take out his contacts here, and he needed the bathroom anyway.

"Yeah, go ahead." Hotch watched him leave and checked the paper bag, which'd been left on his desk. To his surprise and relief, there was a third pastry hiding in it, a double choco-brownie from the look of it. He nibbled it slowly, thinking about nothing, until Reid came back. He looked oddly older with the glasses. "Better?"

"Much. I see you found the bonus cookie." Reid sat back down. "I should've brought something a bit healthier, but sugar...It's comforting, you know?" He could have spouted statistics and quoted research, but was just too tired to. It worried him a little. "So..."

Hotch gave him a long look, then picked up the paddle again, feeling its weight. "Why this? It's pretty massive, why did Gideon choose this one? Of all the array of possible implements- there was a link to an adult toy store in one of the pages he sent me to, it was very educational- he could've gone with something smaller."

"You're an adult, you don't have to explain how you know this." This time Reid's smile was almost a smirk. "I'm sure you've seen worse- and not just from the violent offenders we deal with."

"I've never found it interesting, recreationally." Hotch shrugged. Haley wasn't into anything like that, and he'd never felt the urge, either. He was perfectly happy with vanilla sex, and now that he wasn't getting any, and hadn't in a while...just any sex would've been nice, the rest was just stage-setting, and unnecessary. But that was none of Reid's business, was it? "You're avoiding the question."

"Oh. Uh." Reid hated talking about it. Anything else, he could talk about for hours. This was personal and uncomfortable. "It's- it's a Spencer paddle. That's the official name for this sort of model." He knew he was blushing again. "Gideon found it..."

"Appropriate?"

"Amusing."

"I see." He saw, and tallied up yet another thing he'd have to take up with Gideon if the bastard ever returned. "Well, I'll use it today, but if we ever do something like this again- and I hope we won't- I don't think it'll be with this. It's too-" Too much of a weapon, too clearly meant for causing injury, too easy to go too far with. "Not my style." Reid was polite enough not to point out that _none_ of this was his style, but they both knew it all the same. "So, let's review. You knowingly put your own life and the lives of others at risk, broke protocol, lied to your team and the local officers, went into an incredibly dangerous situation unarmed and with no protection other than your own big mouth. Agreed so far?"

"Your facts are correct." Reid nodded shortly. "In my own defense, it worked."

"After the fact does not excuse the lying, the misdirection, the damage you've done to your own credibility, and the fact that you might've _failed_." Hotch stressed the last word, because that was the important thing. "You were a breath away from death, and you don't seem to care."

"Because I'm ok." Reid shrugged. "And if I'd died, well, I don't think I'd have cared much either, being dead."

"If you're trying to make it easier for me to hit you, you're doing a fine job so far." Through clenched teeth.

"I'm not, actually. In fact, if you get angry again I'll just get up and go home, and there's nothing you'll be able to do about it." He was right, too, so Hotch forced himself to calm down. "I told you why I had to at least try."

"You identified with him."

"Hotch, I was this close to being him, when I was younger. I got lucky. He didn't. I owed it to him."

"You got lucky?" Again, this perspective surprised Hotch. Reid nodded.

"I got out. I got away from most of it. If I hadn't, well..." He didn't like to think about it, but he was pretty sure that it would've ended with a shotgun, aimed either at himself or at his schoolmates. He paused, and redirected the conversation before it got too unpleasant. "D'you know, the only time I went to school with people my own age was for my psychology and sociology degrees, when I was 19?"

"Really? I hadn't realized, no." That sounded fairly awful.

"Well, I spent about a week in kindergarten before they bounced me up to second grade. I started high school when I was ten, and that was just because they wouldn't take me any earlier. For college, I wanted to start with psychology, but my counselor advised against it. He said," This was one if Reid's happier childhood memories, and he smiled as he repeated it, "That I'd better start with something more technical, that a twelve year old wouldn't get the full benefit of psychology, because I just didn't have the necessary understanding of people or the world for it. He was right, but you know, I watched those other kids my age in Psych 101, and even at 18 or 19, they had no idea at all." His face clouded again, "So I started with maths, I figured most people who go for a mathematics major would have enough experience being bullied that they wouldn't transfer the violence, not even to a scrawny thirteen year old classmate. Didn't count on the older brothers of the guys I'd been at school with going to UNLV, though. Or on my former classmates showing up between classes for more fun."

"Didn't you go to Cal Tech?" Hotch had read Reid's file, of course, but he didn't have Reid's memory, and it'd been a while ago, and he hadn't actually focused on his education, back then, but on his Academy scores.

"Only for grad school and beyond it. I did all my undergrad work in Vegas, so I could live at home. Mom wouldn't send me away, and I couldn't leave her. I did, though, eventually. Moved to California when I was 16, mom said she could handle herself and I- I had to get away." He shook his head, dispelling the memory. "Besides, Cal Tech had much better facilities and offered me a full scholarship." He'd felt guilty about it, and even worse when he could finally do something to get his mother help, when he turned 18 but he'd been taking care of her for years. He'd had to think about himself.

"Alright, you got out." It didn't sound like much of an escape, but Hotch had heard echoes of what things had been like for Reid in high school, and it was better than nothing at all. "So you felt like you had to save him?"

"He had to know someone was there for him. I know what it's like, when nobody is. I'll testify at his trial, if he's lucky they'll try him as a minor." Unlikely, of course, but he'd at least try. "I couldn't let him suicide."

"Funny, I can definitely identify with that sentiment." If it wasn't Hotch talking, Reid would've sworn that was a joke. "Anything else you'd like to say?"

Reid thought for a moment, then shook his head. "I think I explained myself as well as I can, unless you have any questions?"

"None, I think. Well, one." Reid gave him an expectant look. "Over the desk, or the back of the sofa?"

Reid winced. "Uh. No luck convincing you to change your mind about that?" Hotch smiled very slightly, hiding just how nervous he was about going through with it.

"That I understand and empathize with you doesn't mean I'm willing to take any risks with your behavior." He explained. "Notice the parallel? I really do understand you, but I will not accept lying, or taking reckless risks- and don't tell me you assessed the risks, you could've been wrong. It was pure selfishness, and that's not how a team functions. Desk or sofa?" He waited for a long moment and finally Reid's shoulders slumped, capitulating.

"Sofa would be easier, it's higher." Normally he'd go for the desk, but Hotch's was covered with paperwork, and just a little too low for his long legs. The sofa would give them a better position. Strangely, Reid found that he wanted to make this as easy as possible for Hotch. If he was going to do it, there had to be no guilt involved. After a second's worth of consideration, he decided it really wasn't strange at all, and stood up."I'll get myself into position?"

"Uh- yeah, go ahead." This was it. Hotch was still not sure he wanted to do it. Actually, he knew he wanted to, and that bothered him. He shouldn't have wanted to do this, to hurt another person on purpose. He hefted the paddle, hesitating.

"Hotch." Reid stood by the sofa and watched him calmly. "I've given my full and informed consent. It's your show now. Trust your instincts, and if you don't want to do it that's ok too. I won't respect you any less. And I'll have an easier time sitting tomorrow, when I have reports to write." His lips quirked up a little. "It's ok. Really." Things seemed to have turned around on them, him reassuring Hotch instead of the other way around, but it felt right so he went with it. "Just...Try not to make me wait too long? It makes me nervous." He hated the part where he just lay there and waited, exposed, laid bare. It was a far greater amount of trust than he usually gave. But Hotch deserved it. Silent now, Reid made short work of pulling his pants and boxers down, hearing Hotch's slight indrawn breath as he draped himself over the back of the sofa and leaned his arms on the seat. It wasn't comfortable, but it was ok.

Hotch was trying hard not to stare. In fact, he was doing his best not to look at all, but ultimately he knew he'd have to. The alternative (which looked better and better with every passing moment) would be to tell Reid to stand up, get dressed and get the hell out. It wasn't that he hadn't seen some of his agents in various states of undress, although they all made efforts to give each other privacy when they shared rooms, or were injured in the line of duty, but this was- different. Intentional, and explicit, and he had to stop himself from actually studying the expanse of pale skin, comparing it to others he had seen, in very different circumstances, in locker rooms and gyms and on dead bodies (no don't think that, that's awful), before his better urges got a hold of him. It had to be done bare, Gideon had stressed that, especially since Hotch was new to the experience and had to see what he was doing. He had to stay clinical about it. Any stirring of thoughts about it being a surprisingly nice ass, for a guy, were swiftly and harshly suppressed.

"Interesting." Reid's voice made him jump as he moved to take up a position he thought would give him the best angle. He cleared his throat.

"What is?"

"You're left handed. I wonder whether it'll feel different." He was talking to distract himself, waiting for the ritual to start- which is why he nearly flew off the sofa with a yelp when the paddle smacked solidly into his ass. "Fuck- Hotch, gimme some _warning _next time!"

Hotch had been about as startled by Reid's reaction as by his own insanity in actually doing this, and almost dropped the paddle. "You're over the sofa with your ass on display and we've been discussing this for the past 45 minutes, how much more warning do you need? Now get back into position. You nearly gave me a heart attack just now."

"Me? You could've tried giving me a moment to prepare myself." Reid grumbled, bending back over. He'd forgotten how much the damn paddle hurt, and there had been no hesitation about the stroke, either. "Gideon usually had me recite all the reasons I was being punished. When we were both satisfied with the list, he'd start."

"That's because you both like to complicate life far more than you should." Hotch shook his head and pushed Reid shoulders lower as gently as he could, making him stretch down. "We just went over the list. I know why I'm doing this, and so do you, so we'll skip that part, alright? I don't know about you, but I was hoping for more than two hours of sleep tonight."

"Right. Sorry." Reid nodded. "Ok, I'm ready." He took a deep breath- only to let it out in a huff as the paddle slammed down again.

"Just in case you weren't clear, earlier," Reid's ass was already turning a faint pink, as the paddle covered both cheeks quite well, and Hotch had spaced the two strokes out so there was no overlap- yet. "You're being punished for lying to your team. For lying to the local police. For the time it will take until we trust your hunches and deductions again. For going in against an armed and dangerous unsub alone. Unarmed. Without a vest." With every item on the list, the paddle came down hard. After the third blow Reid was gasping and trying to move away from the paddle. Hotch grabbed one of his arms with his free hand and pulled it up behind his back, pinning him down. "You're not getting away from this so easily. I'm not even done with the list." He was keeping count, too, and keeping an eye on the state of Reid's butt, now slowly growing a hot pink, with raised marks where the edges of the drilled holes caught him. "Moving on, you're being punished for putting yourself at risk, and everybody else involved with the case. Innocent people at the police station. People on the street. Anybody he might've hurt if you hadn't talked him down." Reid was breathing hard, half sobs escaping despite his efforts to hold them back. "My instructions say I have to explain what you're not being punished for, too. So you're not being punished for identifying with the unsub, or for wanting to help a kid when you felt he had nobody else to represent him." The paddle slapped down twice more, and Reid couldn't choke back another soft cry of pain.

"If I'm not being punished for it- why are you still hitting me?" His voice cracked mid-sentence, but at least he got it all out. "Not- making any sense." Still, it was better to stick to short sentences.

"I'm not hitting you, I'm spanking you. You know the difference." It didn't feel like abuse, but then it rarely did for the abuser, but it didn't look like Reid was being traumatized, either. Hurt, yes, but not harmed. Not scarred. "I'm introducing you to the consequences of reckless, dangerous action in the field." The paddle landed again, and again. Reid's ass was a solid brick red, with several tiny white blisters where the holes had hit the same spot more than once. Hotch forced himself not to compare them to photos of victims he'd seen. "Do you understand, Spencer?"

"I uh-understand." Reid closed his eyes tightly but the tears came all the same. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry." The paddle struck once, twice, and the stilled. Reid slumped across the back of the sofa, his feet barely touching the ground, crying quietly. He tried to stop, but it wasn't just the pain- he cried for Owen Savage, and for Ryan Phillips and a little for himself as well, letting out the misery he'd been holding on to since that awful day in a roadside bathroom. With some help from Hotch he peeled himself away from the sofa and sank to the floor, still shuddering with sobs. When he could finally draw in a full breath he gasped out, "I'm sorry."

"If you're apologizing for this, don't. You have nothing to be sorry for." Some gut instinct made Hotch throw both caution and propriety to the wind and sit down next to Reid, gathering him into a careful hug. The younger man shuddered in his arms, tensed and then relaxed into him, burying his face in Hotch's shoulder. "Sh...it'll be ok." He caught himself just before repeating the words that usually calmed Jack- Reid was hardly a toddler. It took him another five minutes at least to ride out the onslaught of emotion, and he was still sniffling when he finally pulled away. The temptation to stay in that warm embrace was hard to resist, but Reid knew he needed to re-draw the lines before he did something they'd both probably regret. He wiped his eyes and made a face.

"I'm so- ok, I won't say it." The look Hotch gave him stalled another apology. "But I still am."

"I'm sorry too." Reid's state made Hotch feel horribly guilty. "I can't remember the last time I made an adult cry on purpose. Not since I stopped being a prosecutor, I think."

"Don't feel too bad about it. I- uh, I think I needed it." He felt awful physically, but much better, lighter, emotionally. "Don't apologize, that takes away the whole point of discipline." From somewhere he dug up a teary smile.

"Right. I'll remember that. You ok?"

"Depends on your parameters for defining 'ok'." Reid sighed and turned away, rising on his knees to pull his pants up with a hiss of pain. "For a first timer, I'm impressed by your, uh, technique." He was glad he couldn't see Hotch's face when he said that. "Although Gideon never went over 18. I think he thought I'd break."

"That was 24, and you didn't break. You're stronger than he thought you were. Stronger than you think you are, too." Resting a hand on his back again, Hotch added, "I practiced a little. On a cushion. Just to get the feel for it." When Reid half-laughed, half-sobbed again, Hotch had to smile at the ridiculousness of it all.

"Normally I'd appreciate your diligence, but for tonight I find it hard. No offense."

"None taken. You're using longer words already, so you're at least partly ok." Hotch leaned back against the sofa, still on the floor, and pretended he couldn't see Reid rubbing his rear and grimacing. "Bruises fade."

"Yeah. In a week or two I might be able to sit comfortably. I'm just glad I'm taking the train home." He could stand in the metro without anybody paying any attention to him, especially this late at night.

"Brought it on yourself, Spencer. You know you sort of deserved that."

"I wouldn't have let you do it if I hadn't agreed with you on that. But- could we not talk about it anymore? I'll be ok, I promise. And I'll do my best to never get you angry with me again. It's funny- back in New Orleans, Gideon said I was trying to get his attention, and yours, and that I was lucky I'd drawn his. I can see what he meant now." At the somewhat hurt and worried look on Hotch's face, he quickly added, "I understand, but I actually prefer you to him. He was always so distant." The next words were very quiet, "He never hugged me."

Hotch pressed his lips together as a sudden anger flared up in his again. Impulsively, he hugged Reid again, briefly but hard. "You're not open to hugs, usually. Most of us can see you're not comfortable with physical contact." They'd all noticed him flinching away from touch, wearing long sleeves even on warm days to minimize the possibility of bare skin touching anybody. Garcia was the only one who outright ignored that, while the others respected it as best they could. The only times Reid initiated contact were after extreme trauma, to himself or one of the others.

"Oddly comfortable with you." Reid's eyes widened and his closed his mouth with a snap, stunned that he'd actually said that. He was too tired to be careful.

"So you don't hate me for punishing you?" It was important for Hotch to make sure of that. They had to work together, after all, and he cared about Reid's friendship. The young man, like all of them really, didn't trust easily, and he didn't want to lose that trust.

"No. Stop thinking that." The words were as forceful as Reid could make them. "I'm- I'm actually grateful. In a way. It's not as twisted as it sounds. I've been- carrying all that around with me. For weeks. I needed to let it out. I guess. Maybe tonight I'll be able to sleep." He hadn't gone a full night without nightmares in almost a month. "You were right to do it. Stop doubting yourself. Ok?"

"Ok." Hotch nodded. "We should probably go home. And, uh, you should wash your face before you leave or there'll be gossip all over the building before we're both back here in-" He checked his watch and groaned, "Shit. Eight hours. When did it become 1 am?"

Reid glanced at his own watch and stood up, wavering slightly and catching the desk for support. "Thirteen minutes ago and counting. We should definitely leave." He tried a careful step and smiled when he didn't fall over, even if it did hurt like hell. "That thing?" He nodded at the paddle, still resting on the floor, "Is still pretty effective."

"Good. Please make sure I never have to use it again, alright?" Hotch picked it up and put it back in his drawer. "No more lying, Spencer."

"Yessir. No more lying. I promise." Definitely not in the near future, anyway. "I'm just gonna- wash my face."

"Ok. I'm going to close up shop here, and we can maybe go home." Hotch nodded and watched him shuffle out. He started putting his paperwork in order, still a little winded by everything he'd just done. It had felt right. For now it would have to be enough, he couldn't ask for more, right? As long as nobody found out, because then there'd be trouble.

In the bathroom, Reid splashed cold water on his face until he looked more or less normal, if still pale and red eyed. He then decided he wanted to get a good look at the state of his ass before he got home. Self consciously locking the door, even if he was sure that he and Hotch were the only ones on their floor, he carefully drew his pants back down, glanced over his shoulder in the mirror and swore. The angry red had already faded to pink again, but there were definitely blisters, and more than a few bruises. "Ow." He said, just to hear it said. "Damn." Yeah, he was going to feel it for a while. With a sigh, he got his clothes back in order, leaving his shirt untucked, and returned to Hotch'a office. Walking hurt.

"Drop you off at the metro station?" Hotch offered, and Reid, after a moment's consideration, nodded. He wasn't looking forward to sitting, but five minutes in a car would be better than a fifteen minute walk.

"Thanks."

They were quiet in the car, but it was a comfortable silence. When Reid moved to open his door and leave, Hotch reached out to stop him.

"Spencer?" He stopped, the door half open, and turned around to look at him. "Beyond everything, the lying and the anger and the- that, I want you remember that you saved a kid's life today. Your methods sucked, but your general idea was the right one." Hotch actually smiled, and Reid felt a little teary again, still wrung out emotionally, and blinked quickly to hide it. "You did good. Next time do it right, too. Try not to get into so much trouble."

"I'll try." He nodded quickly. "Night, Hotch."

"Night."

Hotch drove away and Reid watched him go, watched until the car was swallowed up by darkness and distance, before turning into the metro station. He'd saved a kid today. His boss forgave him. The throbbing pain in his ass very effectively smothered the craving for the oblivion of drugs. He wasn't even sure why. Endorphins, probably.

Maybe he was a little bit of a masochist. Maybe it was just nice to have someone who cared enough to punish him when he messed up, and who hugged him hard afterwards. Maybe it was ok that he didn't know.

But he felt pretty lucky.


End file.
